baby, it's cold outside
by accioyourheart
Summary: it's christmas time in district two, and it would matter if they thought it mattered. cato/clove christmas oneshot.


_**baby, it's cold outside**_

_**.**_

* * *

it's christmas time in district two, and it would matter if they thought it mattered.

but they don't because they don't even know what it is.

...

when she's young, a boy walks up to her with mistletoe and kisses her.

eyes closed, cheeks red, he faces her and smiles innocently.

she smiles too, before she stabs him and runs off.

she's always been different that way.

it's her first encounter of christmas.

...

there are few families that remember the holiday. the richer ones open presents and receive gifts and toys.

she receives nothing except for cold, harsh stares, and scars from her fathers hands.

she thinks it better this way. at least she'll be tough.

...

her father always comes back piss drunk during christmas.

she knows to be out of the house when he visits the bars. she'll never be home.

...

she spends a christmas with cato when she's twelve.

they sit in a forest and stare at the snow.

her cheeks flush red from the cold biting at them, and her eyelashes are sparsely covered by snow.

it is then, he thinks, that she looks prettiest. somewhat innocent, and somewhat alluring.

her rags of clothing keep her shivering, but she tries not to let him know.

she has his coat on when she returns home.

(as well as his heart)

...

she likes to shake the snow off trees onto her hand, and blow it as if blowing a kiss.

he likes watching before chasing after her footprints in the snow.

...

while others watch snowflakes fall into the ground, she watches blood fall into the ground.

they swirl the red with the white and don't mind when their hands turn numb from the cold.

_after all, red is a festive color,_ she thinks.

...

they stab snowmen for fun with their shiny new blades, and they lay in the sparkling snow when they get tired.

he always faces her in fascination, watching as her breathing evens out and her cheeks gradually flush red.

...

she sits on his front porch a few years later.

his mother eyes her, and she pretends not to notice.

she knows cato's mother despises her, and her kind. filth like her should never associate with people like cato.

but cato _likes _her, and he doesn't like anyone else.

no one protests against cato, not even his mother.

so she turns and gives his mother a sickly sweet smile, all teeth and as chilling as the snow.

...

he comes out and invites her in.

she catches his mom's eyes widen, and smirks before she refuses the offer.

instead they sit around a fire in the woods, and she carves patterns onto the trees around them.

...

he gives her a knife one christmas, and she gives him scars from it.

he knows it's a privilege to be the first a knife cuts.

to him, it's the best gift he receives.

...

when she's sixteen he kisses her under the mistletoe.

it starts out soft, as soft as they can be he supposes, until her teeth clashes with his, and their blood mixes together, and their tongues tangle.

but they stop when his cold hands touch her waist, and her breath hitches.

she shoves him and runs out into the snow where at least she knows she'll be safe.

...

"come back inside. it's too cold." he yells after her.

she keeps on running, and he can't catch up.

...

it's snowing and it's cold and she knows it.

she lies in the snow, curled up and shivering.

she doesn't care and she doesn't mind.

the stinging cold turns numb and then she doesn't feel anything at all.

(she wishes her heart would do the same, and just stop feeling)

...

she listens to her heart as it beats in the snow

_thumpthumpthump_

and she listens as it slows

_thump thump thump_

and she listens as it stops

_thu-_

...

he saves her. he always does.

...

her skin is pale white, and her cheeks are blue.

he doesn't like it. he doesn't like it on her.

...

he saves her and her heart goes

_thumpthumpthump_

once again, as if thawed from the cold.

...

they sit by her fireplace, and he throws dusty blankets on her shivering body.

he sits by her, warming her hands up in his, and whispering threats to her that are supposed to mean well.

she doesn't respond. not one word. her lips stay frozen shut.

...

he doesn't suppose she's listening.

but she is. she hears every word.

...

then they hear glass crack, and a grunt from a man. she flinches, the only movement besides shivering she's done, and he catches it.

but after that there is no movement. and he knows he cannot be caught here.

he climbs out the window, but pokes his head through for a goodbye.

...

"merry christmas, clove."

"merry christmas, cato."

...

they know of the holiday. it just doesn't matter to them.

* * *

_**A/N: I wrote this literally an hour after Christmas ended, and decided to post anyways. It's all in lower case letters because I was writing quickly and in the heat of the moment. I do like how it looks though. It's separate from my one-shot collection, because I feel like it should be, due to it being holiday themed and all. I hope you all had a lovely holiday, whether or not you do celebrate Christmas, and enjoyed this story. Happy Holidays! **_


End file.
